Morning Dew
by Hawki
Summary: Ten years had passed since New Hope Village had been established. But as fuel, food and human lives diminished, hope became a rare commodity. And with their former friendship vastly diminished as well, Ed and Catleia were no exception.
1. Awakening

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**Advance Wars: Morning Dew**

**Chapter 1: Awakening**

Mornings were cold.

Even now, ten years after the meteor strike, mornings in New Hope Village...and the world for that matter, were cold. Granted, it was autumn. Granted, it was in the upper latitudes of the Northern Hemisphere. Granted, she'd spent a good portion of her life in a climate-controlled setting and hadn't truly experienced the world for what it was (weather included) until the world order that had once existed was wiped away in a single night. But even so, with everything from aerosols filtering sunlight to dew in the grass, mornings were cold.

Which was why Catleia had trouble facing them.

Maybe it was irony, she reflected, as she still lay between the blankets and silently debated the pros and cons of seeing the sun rise, but baring with the cold as a consequence. Cattleya's were native to Sura do Sul in the south-a tropical climate whose ecosystem probably didn't exist anymore. Far removed from Western Zephyria, ill suited to its colder regime. But indeed, in a way, she didn't belong in the world at all. She was a clone. A lab rat. A walking encyclopaedia of military knowledge to ensure that real human beings could continue to thin their numbers at will. A...a human being herself.

She believed it. Truly. Which was why, being an individual, she made the choice to get out of bed, watch the sun rise, and get ready to work with the rest of the community. A community that not once in the last decade had raised an eyebrow about her. Her celadon hair, her amber eyes...none of it. She wasn't going to play the role of outcast if no-one was intent on making her play it in the first place. Rather, she was intent on playing the role of a productive member of society.

Which, she bitterly reflected as she put on her jacket and exited the dwelling, was a role that she sometimes felt too secure in.

"Ah, Catleia, good morning!"

Stolos's prodigy smiled as she saw Doctor Mortiz walking by and waving at her, the old coot unchanged apart from a slightly more favourable ration of good to bad jokes and...well, being old. His hair whiter, his hands weathered, his brow creased...Mortiz was a measure of time. One of many.

"Doctor," the young woman smiled back. "I didn't figure you to be up this early."

"Well, what can I say? The early bird catches the worm. Or in this case, Mrs. Fleck's baby due anytime now." His smile became mischievous. "Worm coming out of the hole instead of into one."

Catleia kept smiling despite Mortiz's joke figures slipping back into the negative. "Thirteenth birth you've had to deal with this year. Lili will be out to get you if this rate keeps up."

"She's doing fine...as are you, I might add."

Catleia's smile faded. "Yes doctor...I am."

And that was it. Conversation over. Hello, goodbye, move on to your next patient. See you again maybe, don't care if I don't.

Unspoken words. But with a single raised hand in farewell, Mortiz got the message regardless.

The young woman remained silent as she turned away, glancing at the east for the first rays of morning. She didn't hate Mortiz. All in all, she didn't really hate anyone, Stolos excluded. But even so, there were emotions far less extreme than hate that one could experience, and over the years, she'd come to understand him. So while she didn't _hate _Mortiz, or even dislike him, that didn't stop antagonism from blossoming to the surface. Not after what he'd put her through a year ago, however unintentionally.

_And still the years march on._

Or did they? The sun was a keeper of time, always perfect in its measurement, and that was part of the reason why Catleia liked it, in addition to the warmth it provided on early mornings. It was the start of a day that she could live. A reminder that she was indeed, living her life, however basic it might have seemed to the world that the meteor shower eradicated. It reminded her that she was still alive...

Even if her own body didn't. A body that was cloned from a madman. A body that after ten years, barely seemed older than that of an individual in her late teens, not a young woman who was approaching thirty. A year ago, she wouldn't have thought twice about it, bar kind, sometimes envious comments from other members of her sex that she was "growing up young," and not succumbing to the rigours of age and manual labour. A year ago...well, if she was inclined, she might have used her exterior biological trends to help fulfil her...internal ones. Or mental. Even before the meteor shower, the human mind was a mystery. In all its irrational trains of thought, the full spectrum of goodness and evil that her experiences with the 12th Independent Legion had taught her quite adequately.

A spectrum that she'd discovered included duplicity...

"Wait! We need this!"

"So do we...rest assured, I wouldn't be taking it if I didn't need it."

_Speak of the devil..._

Or not-Catleia had seen the devil and she didn't feel like speaking of him at all. Not to Richard-her co-worker in the wheat field and driver of the tractor/APC. Not to Trak, currently in the midst of removing the APC's blades and bucket to make it look like an actual armoured personnel carrier. And _certainly_ not to the last person Catleia wanted to see, who seemed to be leading the group of armed men and women in the midst of commandeering the vehicle.

"This is preposterous! Do you think this wheat harvests itself?"

"No. But I _do _think that you're capable of understanding our vehicle situation. Besides, you have the rest of autumn to harvest your crop. We've got to move out today."

"And move out for _what_, exactly?"

Catleia didn't have a commanding presence. Not in form, and even as her irritation was soaring as high as the Pulsatrix, not in voice either. Still, it served her purpose as the leader of the troopers turned to face her.

Ed. Hard faced, bearded and looking far older than one in his late thirties should look, but Ed all the same.

"Catleia," he murmured, giving her the courtesy of at least meeting her gaze and fingering a holstered pistol while he was at it. "You're up early."

"I like getting up early...didn't think you did though."

"I don't. But duty calls."

Duty that included removing the last farming attachments to the APC. Duty that involved apparently commandeering one of the last functioning vehicles New Hope Village had, let alone one with enough fuel to use it. Duty that involved gesturing for two squads (as opposed to the usual one) to enter it.

"Bandits," Ed murmured, by way of explanation. "Currently based fifty klicks east of here. We go in, send them packing, and return in time for dinner."

"And meanwhile, _we're _stuck with scythes in the field."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't think the Grim Reaper will be coming to collect them."

"No..." the young woman murmured, still not backing down. "I don't suppose you'll collect them."

The Laurentian Army's job (if it could still be called an army nowadays) wasn't something that Catleia or anyone resented in itself, but in a world of vehicles left idle due to maintenance issues and/or lack of fuel, their job often cut into that of the farmers trying to feed hungry stomachs. Once, Catleia's job had effectively been the same as Ed's. Once, their jobs had brought them together. But now, their jobs were approaching mutual exclusivity and apart from losing a tractor, that suited her just fine. Hell, remove the tractor out of the equation and Ed going off to get himself killed might be the best thing that happened.

_Or not..._

Emotion had a wide spectrum. But even now, Catleia found herself drifting back to ones that...well, ones that a chick might have after seeing its mother hen for the first time. Emotions that she'd felt over a decade ago in-...

"You coming sir?"

Emotions that Trak either didn't understand or didn't care about.

"Yeah, coming," Ed murmured, as he walked towards the APC's front cabin. Like the sniper, he could be an expert in minimal communication...as Catleia had discovered for herself.

With neither of the former friends sparing a second glance at each other, they went their separate ways.

Chances were, they'd always continue to do so.


	2. Arrival

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**Advance Wars: Morning Dew**

**Chapter 2: Arrival**

Ed was wet.

Granted, so were the rest of the troopers, but it was still cold comfort...no pun intended. Firstly, it was cold. Secondly, he and the rest of the soldiers had just spent the better part of an hour walking through a tree-shaded river, allowing them to approach the relevant floodplain section without being spotted by any scouts the bandits might have set up. Thirdly, even on said floodplain, the grass was still wet with morning dew. So even if they'd brought a flamethrower with them, chances were it wouldn't do any good.

"Are you alright commander? You look cold."

_And you don't, _Ed reflected, noticing that Trak was as undisturbed by the damp as he was with...well, everything but cows really. He couldn't help but wonder if this kind of scenario suited men like Trak. Men who'd rather have their hands around a rifle than a bovine's udders.

Still, he was glad to have him along. Trak was a man who went straight to the point. And as they made their way to the bandits' camp, Ed knew that he wanted his mind focussed on the here and now rather than...other things.

Still, the here and now had its origins over the past month. A mobile force of raiders had been plaguing New Hope for the last month, and Lin had made no secret that they were to be considered the army's top priority...even if "army" was too generous a term and was a militia at best. Precious fuel had been spent on aerial sweeps, and even out in the field, Ed hadn't been authorized to take anything but the bare essentials. The bandits were collateral the moment they attacked New Hope, but their vehicles and weapons were another kettle of fish. Ammunition was running low, oil even lower and spare parts were practically non-existent. As pesky as these raiders had been, they were still a valuable source of black and grey gold. So all Ed and co. had to do was take out the thirteen marauders currently camped on the floodplain, along with any scouts that might come their way.

_Or will..._

The bandits' transport was mainly composed of jury-rigged bikes and cars, said vehicles being mostly absent. These men...mostly Zephyrian by their accents...they may have been thugs, but they weren't stupid. Mostly. Because while they had the roads covered, the idea of heading downriver and making one's way onto the floodplain from it apparently hadn't crossed their minds.

"Second squad, this is Wolf Actual," Ed whispered into his radio, having led his own within fifty metres of the criminals. "We're in position, over."

"Roger that," came the voice of Corporal Kohler. "We've got the road covered. Any bikes come this way, we'll take them out."

"Preferably, take the riders out. We need the-..."

"Yes commander, I know. But if it's a choice between machines or men..."

"Choose the men. And don't factor women into the equation."

Some of the troopers crouched down in the grass spared Ed a look. Not Trak, thankfully, who was currently only staring through his rifle's scope, but enough to make the former commander of the 12th Independent Legion uneasy.

_Don't factor women into the equation...what the hell does that mean?_

Sometimes, Ed still felt like a kid, no more experienced than he'd been when O'Brian had saved him from joining his parents in whatever afterlife might exist. Lin was the mayor of New Hope on her third term, her sharp mind being the only thing giving the community a sense of direction. And while he couldn't think of a better choice, it still left him in the position of taking orders, of fighting a war that wasn't really a war anymore, yet too constant to be written off as mere skirmishes. Even now, with his hair darker, his attire tighter and his being...harder, he still felt like nothing more than a cadet at times. Most of the men around him were older than him, whilst those from a younger generation looked up to him as if he was a saint. The man who defeated everything that Sigismundo and Stolos had thrown at him, and led them to their promised land. No-one seemed to remember what role O'Brian had played. No-one seemed to care that he was a kid back then, and in his own mind, relied on luck as much as actual tactics. No-one...

"Commander? Orders?"

Ed glanced at Trak, his eye still on the ball, but his mind wandering. Given how long he'd been caught up in thought, Ed couldn't blame him.

"Take the first shot," the young man murmured. "Rest of you, follow up."

Ed released the safety of his rifle, still amazed that after ten years of minimal maintenance the damn thing hadn't taken his arm off. Hopefully the bandits wouldn't have much of a chance to fire back. Either way, as the number of thugs were reduced from thirteen to twelve, he supposed he'd find out.

"First squad, take them out."

Bullets ripped through the wet grass, tearing it apart as much as the marauders ahead of them. One, two...three down before they even fully understood what was happening. Not as sure a strike as what a helicopter might have done, but gone were the days where they could be deployed in force.

"Fireteam one, hold position," Ed said, ducking down as the bandits returned fire to their general direction. "Second fireteam, with me."

Sprinting through the grass, balancing speed with cover, Ed led four other troopers to the right. To the south technically, with fireteam one in the west and second squad to the north. Perhaps if they pulled this off fast enough, they could perform a pincer manoeuvre and-...

"Wolf Actual, come in."

"Read you Wolf Two," Ed said, still moving through the grass as he did so.

"Bikes and buggies, coming hot. ETA two minutes."

"COA?"

"We've got claymores and some anti-tank weapons. Still, we'll follow standing orders...could take some time though."

"Do it. But remember _my _orders when it comes to your lives."

"Roger that sir. Wolf Two, out."

Ed wondered if Kohler was really as confident as he sounded. Certainly Ed, the "Legend of the Legion" wasn't. Not even-...

"Incoming!"

Ed dived to the ground along with the rest of the squad as dirt and grass flew up into the air about ten metres away. Ten metres closer to the bandits than they were, to be exact.

"They've spotted us," Ed grunted, looking over the fireteam and noticing for the first time how many of them were actually around the same age as he was. "Follow me, then set up a firing position. We'll hit them back, hard."

"Amen to that, sir," said a Private whose nametag labelled him as "Karven." He got to his feet slowly. "Hit them hard, hit them fast and-..."

Karven stopped talking. He even stopped standing. And all Ed could do was watch. Watch as a man even younger than he was fall to the ground, his head and neck covered with blood.

Everything seemed to fall silent. The gunfire, the shouts, the screams. Just...silence. And all Ed could do was stare. Stare at a man he barely knew until today, and thanks to some...some _monsters_...never would. It was a case of never knowing what you had until it was gone. And the commander had thought he'd learnt that lesson the hard way a year ago.

_How could you do this! I trusted you! Both of you! I...I thought we were friends! I thought...we were more..._

Catleia...why he was thinking of her when Karven had gone to the same place as her father (or not...maybe Hell and Heaven really did exist), Ed didn't know. All he knew was that in one second he'd slotted a grenade into his rifle's underslung grenade launcher, and the next, had fired said grenade at the marauders. And the moment after that, he was in the midst of repeating the process. Never mind the collateral damage. Never mind the exposure to enemy fire, or part of that fire hitting him below his shoulder blade. All that mattered was again, he had lost someone. Someone who he'd again realized too late he should have treated with more...trust.

Trust...it was as frail as a human's body. Bodies that were strewn all over the camp as more controlled gunfire finished them off, the sounds of gunfire in the background fading as well. Bodies of which, only one was in any condition to fight. One of them...wild haired, wild eyed, reaching for a pistol.

Bringing his boot down, Ed promptly broke the bastard's fingers.

"Cold," Trak commented as he and the first fireteam moved into the area, securing the men and materials. He glanced at his superior. "You've changed."

Ed remained silent. Yes, he had changed. He was out here, leading from the front. Among people that he barely knew, and had never confided in before. Not that he confided in many people, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was still capable of that.

"You...bastard..." the man growled, staring at Ed like an aggravated grizzly might face the hunter after it. "You...murdering..."

"This isn't murder, it's war," Ed said grimly, repeating the words O'Brian had once told him over a decade ago when criticizing Sigismund's planned execution of the Zephyrians, only in reverse. "You made your choice."  
"Fuck...you...didn't hurt...anyone..."

"There's a few orphans and widows who might say otherwise. But if you surrender now, I'm sure they can...show what you didn't."

The man glared at Ed, though not like an animal. Rather, he glared at him like...a man. With a cruelty and contempt for life that only humanity could possess.

"Don't...sugar-coat it..." he snarled. "You know what life is, bastard? Nothing but a protein-based mechanism for energy consumption. It's really nothing special. It's-..."

Ed shot him. And he didn't give a damn what anyone else thought. Not the surviving bandits, not those under his command and while probably not an issue, not Trak either.

_Enough! Stop talking! I can't stand hearing you anymore! You look like a human, but you're not! I don't know what you are..._

Those words...the same words he'd said to Stolos eleven years ago. Words in response to the words the marauder had repeated. Words that he didn't think was possible to hear again.

_Even now, after all this time...life is cheap._

But it wasn't cheap, Ed told himself as he took a sip from his hip flask, ignoring the shocked glances of the troopers, seemingly more upset about a criminal's death than one of their own. Stolos had tried to make it cheap. He'd treated it so cheaply that he was willing to write off his own children as lab rats, along with the human race as a whole. Children...and people...that were either still alive, or damn well entitled to be. Cyrus...Lili...Catleia...

Catleia...it all came back to her. Damn girl hadn't left him alone this morning and now, out here in the field, he was paying the price.

Or maybe it was because he felt the same way she had when they'd first met.

Maybe he didn't know who he was anymore.


	3. Acceptance

**Advance Wars: Morning Dew**

**Chapter 3: Acceptance**

_Where there's life, there's hope._

The words weren't attributed to one man, even if O'Brian had been the man to utter them in the first place. But maybe an attribution wasn't needed. After all, the words were carved under the wooden archway that declared New Hope Village as being such, and the words were what its people lived by. Maybe hope was lost at times, and life certainly was on an irregular basis. But the words were still true. Those who followed them were still true. And as she turned her head from the arch to focus back on the returning troopers, Catleia counted herself among them.

Ed though...he was another story.

The soldiers were within fifty metres by the time Catleia could see their leader. The days were growing shorter, and with the sun dipping into the western horizon, those coming from the east were encased in gloom. It was a darkness that suited them, the young woman reflected, as well as the black flag that was flown from their APC. Even with all the salvaged weapons and vehicles she could see, one life was still a loss. And as she watched her former friend dismount from the vehicle, the clone could see that the group's commander was in no mood to differ from that analysis.

"Bikes, cars, weapons and ammo..." Catleia heard Lin say, as she walked up to her subordinate. "Nice job Ed."

The commander remained silent as he took a flask offered by the mayor, water (or moonshine for all she knew) dribbling down his chin.

"Black flag's up..." Lin continued. "How many-..."

"One."

"...that's good."

"Could have been better."

Lin nodded. "I know. But still good. You did a good job Ed, don't forget that. I'll...deal with the details."

Catleia, and everyone else assembled knew what those details would involve...if it even came to it. Most of the town were assembled at the entrance, and it wouldn't take long to find out who hadn't returned.

On the other hand, she reflected sadly, the death would likely be forgotten over the coming months. The Wolves had hauled in a large supply of vehicles and perhaps more importantly, fuel. Enough to see New Hope through the coming winter. Where there was life, there was hope, but right now, basic supplies could very well sacrifice.

_Basic supplies like wheat._

Catleia's first inclination was to help unload the goods. Her second was to ask Ed about the APC, as to when it could be converted back into a tractor and how much fuel could be allocated for it. And while her third inclination was to give the young man some time to do...whatever he'd gone off to do, she decided to settle on the second option. He...they'd...dealed with much worse in the past, not even including O'Brian's death. And if the events of one year prior had taught her anything, it was that honesty was sometimes the best approach.

An approach almost as good as heading straight to Ed's house, knowing that he'd be inside.

Catleia didn't bother knocking as she entered the wooden dwelling. No locks had been installed in any of the village's structures bar those reserved for storage and besides, if she'd asked for permission to enter, chances were the answer would have been in the negative. Actually, scratch that. With Ed slumped on his desk, a (thankfully) unloaded pistol on one side and a flask on the other, his answer _would _have been in the negative, no chance involved. She knew him too well to think otherwise.

"You didn't knock."

"You wouldn't answer," she said softly, watching as he took another swig from the flask. "How's the moonshine?"

Ed glanced at her, his visage a mixture of perplexion and annoyance. "It's water. I'm on duty."

"Ah yes. Of course."

An uneasy silence fell over the room. It was a silence Catleia knew she could break, were she to simply ask about the APC, and the notion of it getting back into a field of wheat rather than a tactical one. But she held back. Something was bothering Ed, that much was obvious. And not only would it be callous of her to ignore this, but...she wanted to find out what. Even if she knew she wouldn't get a straight answer anyway.

"Ed..." she began, walking over to the desk. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You always were a hopeless liar..."

Ed glanced at her again. He knew a veiled gauntlet when he saw one, even if the words were inaccurate. In fact, he was a very good liar. He'd lied to her for nine years...

"Catleia, I don't have time for this. I'm not discussing it again."

"Of course not...you're so _busy _with other things."

"I did what I thought was right."

"And what about what _I _thought?" Catleia asked, unfamiliar anger coursing through her. "Did you ever think of _that_?"

"Yes."

And there it was. Different circumstances, same situation. And the results were the same.

Catleia was a clone. She knew that, but if it wasn't for Ed, and his coming back for her on the Pulsatrix, she wouldn't have been able to accept that and move on. To be more than another Lutia, another plaything for Stolos. To be a person...yet a clone just the same. A human clone, and one that, as she discovered, could pop dead at anytime due to a shortened lifespan. A lifespan that had gone on for nine years after her rescue, yet with her only discovering the truth via an offhand comment from Mortiz, under the assumption that Ed had told her. Except he hadn't. He hadn't told her any of it. And while he protested that he didn't want to worry her, Catleia hadn't wanted to hear any of it. If her life was potentially shorter, or longer, she wanted to know. She wanted to know so that if she had little time left, she could make the most of that time. But Ed had hid the truth from her. Had _lied _to her. Had tried to get her to live a lie the same way Stolos had.

That was when everything went downhill. She couldn't maintain...whatever they had based on a lie. And soon, Ed gave up trying. Given up the same way he'd given up now. Only this time, what he'd given up on seemed to be hope itself. And if O'Brian's protoge could lose the gift he gave to all Laurentians and Zephyrians...

The sun had well and turely set by now, and darkness was filling the dwelling in turn. And Ed didn't seem to mind...

"You'll get the APC tomorrow..." Ed grunted, closing the flask. "I suggest you turn in."

"Not until I get some answers."

"What?"

The "what?" was a response to Catleia's statement.,,at first. Within the next few seconds, it was a remark based on the young woman resting her hand on Ed's arm.

"Ed..." she said softly. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, what happened?" the commander grunted. "Came across bandits, took them out...lost a man..."

"In other words, things that you've done plenty of times before. Yet coming back from a mission, I've never seen you like this."

Ed stared at her, dumbstruck. "Wait a minute...you've been _watching _me return? I've never seen you at any of the entrances.

Catleia blushed slightly, hoping the gloom would cover it. She had indeed. And so far, she'd been glad that Ed hadn't noticed. Still, he'd noticed now, so it seemed best to get back to the subject.

"Talk to me..." she continued. "We are...were...able to be honest with each-other." Ed opened his mouth, but his...maybe no longer former friend stopped him. "I don't mean that as an insult. You're like a chick that's lost its mother hen."

Ed snorted, and Catleia couldn't blame him. Eleven years ago, and the roles...indeed the words in a sense, were reversed.

"It was during the battle..." Ed began slowly. "Against the bandits. After one of my men were killed...it was what one of the bandits said." He clenched his fist. "Life...was worthless to him. So worthless that his words were exactly the same as what Stolos told me in our last battle."

Catleia went pale. "You think..."

"No, the two probably never met. But hearing them...that another...person...could say exactly the same things as that..._monster_..." He gazed at Catleia, looking to her for answers the same way she had to him when they first met. "Where there's life there's hope...what hope is there if life can be discarded like that?"

"But Ed, you-..."

"I shot him, Catleia. I heard those words and I shot a man in cold blood. He didn't give a damn about life...why should I have given a damn about his?"

"I don't know Ed...but you do. Otherwise you wouldn't be here talking to me."

Another silence filled the room, though if Catleia's thoughts had been spoken out aloud, that silence would have evaporated in an instant. It wasn't Ed's act that disturbed her-Lin had admitted to doing the same thing with Sigismundo, explaining that "some people just need killing." Catleia didn't know if she agreed, but having never held a weapon in her life, wasn't going to pass judgement on those who did. No...what really disturbed her was how...lost...Ed was. After all this time, their roles had reversed. She was upright, tall and strong. Ed looked like a haggard lost lamb.

"Ed..." the clone began slowly. "I'm not going to berate you for what you did. Not when you feel bad enough about it already."

"But you should, Catleia," Ed said despondently, turning his chair to face her but refusing to meet her gaze. "I've failed O'Brian...this village...you..."

"But you haven't," she continued, trying not to get too caught up of being part of those Ed had 'failed,' when she'd thought he was under no obligation to prove anything. "You want to know why? Because unlike Stolos...because unlike anyone like him...you're a living, breathing person. A man with dreams...and hopes...and feelings..."

"And how do you know that?"

Catleia lowered her gaze, along with the volume of her voice. "Because that's what you once told me..."

She remembered. All of it. The Pulsatrix...what Ed had told her after rescuing her...words she would never forget...

_What, that you're a clone? So what? I don't care if you come from a mother or a tank! Isabella, you're a person! A real living person with ideas and dreams and...and stuff like that! You have meaning and strength and beauty and...and I... I..._

And she remembered what she'd ended up saying as well. What she'd said after realizing the value of her own life…and of another boy's…

_I-I want to... I want to...live... I want to live together with you, Ed!_

And right now, in the gloom…she realized that she still meant those words. Meant them so strongly, that she was willing to overshadow them. To prove that actions spoke louder than words.

She kissed him.

It was soft, sudden and hardly sustained. But it shook Ed out of his stupor more than any of her words had so far.

"Catleia…you…"

"Don't…" she said softly. "Just…let me help you. Like you helped me. Even if words won't help this time…"

"Words…" Ed said softly. "Catleia, I…remember them too…"

Catleia smiled. And for the first time that she'd seen him all day, Ed smiled as well.

Soon, the morning would come. With its dew, and its damp.

But as the two friends embraced, past and present melding into one, the morning wouldn't be so cold.

**The End**

* * *

_A/N_

_Well, that's that. Short story, and is over quickly in turn. Anyway, don't have any other _Advance Wars _fics on my 'to write' list at this point in time. Currently focussing on a _Diablo _story titled _Jungle of Shadow_._


End file.
